Medical Advice

Wow -- my posts have become almost regular! Once a month! Baby steps and I will get back on this horse. I have been distracted by work, teaching (which is different from work), and illness -- Bird's, Dave's, and mine. To wit --

I was sick for three weeks after Thanksgiving. Sure we've had colds, the chicken pox scare, ear infections, and the nasty stomach bug that Bird was nice enough to share with David and me. (My God, the puke! Have you seen the bit on Family Guy when Peter, Chris, Stewie, and Brian all drink castor oil and wait to see who pukes last? Winner gets the last piece of pie. Of course, they all charf. Everywhere. Some of the lines are really, really great.)

Where was I? Oh yes, I was sick. I got a cold the weekend of Thanksgiving (and then Bird and David, in that order). It was a fairly crappy cold with a cough and everything. Bird and David got better, I did not. It just kept going. And then my sinuses starting killing me and everything in my head throbbed and my snot was an unnatural color of green and then my teeth started to hurt. It was great.

I finally broke down and called my doctor for an appointment. I have not visited a doctor due to illness in over 15 years. Sure I've been in a doctor's office more times in the last two years than some people are in a lifetime (my veins practically open and bleed on command for phlebotomists now), but I haven't seen a doctor because I didn't feel well in forever.

I got this current doctor (a real doctor that I have along with my real health insurance -- another benefit of finishing grad school) while I was pregnant because I needed to get a flu shot and my OB didn't have any. This current doctor also looked at a toe problem I was having at the time and announced "That is too gross for me. You'll need to see a foot doctor." Hmmmm. OK.

So I saw this doctor last week. Of course, I was feeling better the morning of the appointment. A similar phenomenon occurs for me when I break down and make an appointment to get my hair colored or cut. I inevitably love the way my hair looks in the last 72 hours before I pay big bucks to change it.

Back to the appointment. I was prepared for things to take a long time since I was being "squeezed in" and everyone is sick at this time of the year. A very nice nurse took my vitals. I fit into my pre-pregnancy clothes again. Some pants are even a little large. And yet, I seem to weigh only about 10 pounds less than I did the day Bird was born. I've always hated numbers.

Later a medical student came in to chat. A medical student -- as in, not a resident, not yet an M.D. Wow did she look young. I've already forgotten her name. She was blond and had on a smart, white lab coat. She looked like she was concentrating hard on her bedside manner.

My file with this doctor is two pages long. Somehow the medical resident got lost in the file and asked me if I was pregnant since my last period was July 3, 2006. Don't you have to take math in med school? So anyway, we got the two pages sorted out, got the date of my last period sorted out (concurrent with this sinus infection, thank you very much), and got down to business. The opportunity to recap my last visit alerted the med student to the fact that I have a baby and I am breastfeeding.

She actually looked in my ears, up my nose, and down my throat. While checking out my ear wax she exclaimed "Diamond alert!" I kid you not. She helpfully added that she is on "jewelry watch" because she knows her boyfriend bought a ring. I said "Congratulations! But how do you know he bought a ring?" She explained, "I went with him to the jewelry store."

Hmmm. Call me old-fashioned, but that takes all of the magic out of a marriage proposal. If you go to the store with your fiance-to-be and pick out a ring and see the price, what do you need him for? Don't you want to be surprised? And no, I don't think it's truly a surprise if you know he has the ring but you don't know when or how he'll pop the question. I don't know how men today deal with that kind of pressure. This young woman picked out her ring, presumably also her betrothed, and has already narrowed down possible wedding dates, but has no official proposal or ring on her finger. Ahhhh, romance.

As we ran through my symptoms (pausing so she could write it all down), she started asking me questions. Question the first: "Are you feeling tired or run-down lately?"

Ha! I truly thought she was joking for a full count to three. Instead of laughing, she kept her eyes focused on mine while waiting for my answer and applying all of that bedside-manner listen-to-the-patient stuff I am sure she is learning in school. "Um, yes I'm tired. I haven't slept through the night in a very, very long time. I have a baby."

She then proceeded to ask me questions about Bird and his sleeping habits. And then she...yes, you know it's coming....began to tell me how to get him to sleep through the night --

• You should feed him right before bedtime.
• You should give him a bath and then massage him with bedtime lotion that is scented with lavender.
• Sometimes babies just need to cry it out to figure out how to fall asleep.
  

Oh, honey. I wanted to pat her hand and tell her to talk to me after she has her first child. You know, the one that she is sure she will easily conceive at the time she has chosen --- I won't go there since that is a whole other rant of mine, and yes a time that she has chosen since come on, she picked out her engagement ring.

Anyway, I found it funny to receive this advice from a young, childless, medical student when I just wanted a prescription to cure my nasty infection. I know it takes a village. I know I thought myself to be knowledgeable about such things while I was childless. But please.

First-Time Mom Questions

• Why do diapers have so much stuff printed on them? Is it just the expensive ones? Are they expensive because they print so much junk on them?
• Why would there be a product recall on a product that is not actually being recalled, but rather consumers are being offered stickers that read something along the lines of "do not leave baby unattended"?
• Why does Pedialyte have a color? Does the toddler really care if the "fruit flavor" is orange? Is the food coloring used to make it easier to identify it within your baby's vomit when they throw it back up?
• If the "upside" of my baby catching every communicable disease while in daycare is that it boosts his immunity, then why the hell am I getting sick too? I went to school for many many years, so shouldn't I never be sick again?
• How is it possible that a 17-pound, 26-inch person generates more dirty laundry than a one-hundred and ni......than a grown person?
• Of all the interesting things present and within my son's reach, why does he always always manage to choose the thing most dangerous?
• Why hasn't someone invented a quiet breast pump?
• If I am my baby's legal guardian and diaper ointment can be purchased over the counter, why am I required to get a doctor's signature to have someone at the daycare center put diaper ointment on my baby's butt? (Okay, I mean I guess I know why, but please.)
• Why does spit up only appear minutes after I have vigorously burped my baby over a burp cloth? Why does it only land on dry-clean-only work clothes? And how is it so stealth?
• Have you tasted rice cereal?
• Why hasn't someone invented a pacifier for babies that is shaped like baby toes?
• Can medical science please find a way to inoculate my son from disease that does not require multiple injections?
• When does all this teething result in actual teeth?
• Will my baby be healthy and fever-free for more than 7 straight days this fall?
• How was I supposed to guess "ear infection" when he had a fever for four days, threw up once, cried and cried and cried (and Bird is not a crier), but never once pulled on his ears?
• Why do they flavor antibiotics to taste like bubble gum? What do dentists think about this?
• Why is it that the only apparent genetic link between my baby and me is horribly sensitive skin?
• Could it be possible that I put antiperspirant on only my left pit two days in a row?

It Wasn't Chicken Pox

So it wasn't chicken pox. Well, we don't think it was chicken pox. Apparently, chicken pox is a lot harder to diagnose in this era of the chicken pox vaccine. (Bird has not been vaccinated because he will not be old enough to get the vaccine until he is 12 months old.)

It could have been roseola or maybe the dreaded hand, foot, and mouth disease. Then there's measles. Have you ever looked up "rash" in a baby book? The entries read like some kind of bad made-for-tv thriller about viruses that bring Armageddon.

Bird's virus started as a fever -- his highest recorded to date -- that lasted more than three days. Lucky for us, he's a champ at tolerating the rectal thermometer. He peed on me only three times and the poop incidents were kept to a minimum. After the fever, the rash appeared. Well, a new one appeared. He had been sporting a rash under his chin before the fever even appeared. The fever lit up this rash and then also brought a new one along for the party.

I know that all of this is part of Bird going off into the world and meeting new people and new superbugs. Women I know who also put their children into daycare situations to return to work all say the same thing...."Oh yes the germs! They get sick and you get sick and it's awful. But think of it this way, now they're gaining immunity!"

Immunity? So we won't have another fever and rash attack? We won't get pink eye again? How about that nice upper respiratory thing from earlier this month? Hell, even if this was a mild case of chicken pox, it was likely not "strong enough" to give him natural immunity. I am glad Bird has faired relatively well in terms of fighting these things off, but the "benefit" of immunity seems small in the face of the panoply of germs and viruses out there.

I started this entry on October 19 -- Bird had been home from daycare a full week and a half. He went back on Monday. On Wednesday he had is first field trip -- to a tiny pumpkin patch! (More about that later.) He had started to master solid foods too (well, "Stage 1" solid foods) -- bananas, sweet potatoes, oatmeal, and carrots.

On Wednesday night he threw up the carrots and breastmilk. Then he threw up again and got rid of what was left and cleaned out his sinuses as well. Believe me, it was a lot grosser than it sounds. So we've now had a few days of vomiting, a slight fever, pedialyte, thrown-up pedialyte, changes of clothes, changes of bedsheets, and meticulous investigations of diapers in hopes of discovering urine. Ack.

I hate throwing up. I hate watching Bird throw up even more. I am shocked at how much Bird has taught David and me about being sick. We can both detect even a slight fever and are getting good at predicting the actual temperature. Last night at 4:00am I woke up at the sound of Bird's stomach and was ready before the vomit actually came up. Of course, he still managed to nuke my pillow.

We are all tired. Our second floor smells sour. We have piles of laundry. I want to wash everything -- including each of us. I want two whole weeks of health. I know, I know this is all a part of being a parent. Would I be going too far if I send Bird back to daycare in a biohazard suit?

Dirty Laundry

Perhaps it is because I am a new homeowner who is still basking in the glow of new-to-us washer and dryer, but I love doing laundry. Wait. I just re-read that sentence. It's definitely because I am a new homeowner. I hate doing laundry, but bear with me here.

I hated doing laundry when we had to haul it down many rickety porch steps into the basement and use goofy tiny tokens that we had to purchase from a neighbor on the other side of the building who had Cujo for a pet. I hated doing laundry when we had to bundle it all up and drag it over to the laundromat that had no chairs and was perpetually moist and mildewy and Spanish talk shows (a la Jerry Springer) blaring on televisions in every corner. I even hated it when we had to heave the bundles over to the same laundromat to drop them off and have the nice ladies there wash, dry, and fold our underwear for us.

But now? Now I have no fewer than four different laundry receptacles waiting to hold our dirty linens -- and three of them even look nice. Now I can take laundry into the basement any time I want and not worry about waiting for a washer, or if the washer will work, or what is in the washer before my bathroom towels, or if I'll be able to get back before someone removes my belongings…. Essentially, I now have stress-free laundry.

What I really love about laundry, though, is that it gets clean. I can take massive piles of too-gross-to-smell, wrinkled, and inside-out laundry and turn it into orderly piles of sniffable, warm, fresh, ready-to-use goodness. There is nothing better than a tall stack of clean (and folded and organized by hue) underwear. Nothing.

Don't you feel like you can handle anything when you know you have clean clothes in your drawers and closet? Isn't it nice when there is no stress surrounding what to wear because it is all clean and waiting for you to make your choice?

I feel even more happiness with the ability to select clean t-shirts to wear now that I have a spit-up monster (albeit an adorable one) marking all of my shirts (and some of my bras, pants, and shoes) as his property with his regurgitation. Wearing the same shirt two days in a row (come on, I'm not the only one) is a much riskier prospect with an infant in the house.

What I really wish I could do is launder the piles of paper that I have littering many flat spaces in the house -- or, worse yet, jumbled into boxes so that I don't lose anything. (Ha. Now that's hilarious. I dump piles of potentially imperative papers into boxes so that I can find them when I need them. My ability to self-delude is impressive.)

A little detergent (with the measuring cup that can be thrown in with the wash so that it too comes out clean!), a jumbo-sized load with extra rinse for two boxes of bill statements, atm receipts, to do lists, manuals for new baby stuff, and other paper detritus…and voila! I could have organized piles of clean paper sorted by type just like my bathroom towels!

After I get the paper laundry done, I'd like to drop off my lawn at the salon for a color, cut, and style makeover.

Time

Over seven months have passed since I last posted. It feels like it was just yesterday -- and yet also a lifetime ago. Everything has changed in the blur of the last seven months.

I now have a son. I am now a mother. How weird is that? He is wonderful and he has taken over our lives.

I am now a homeowner. How grown up is that? We moved into a bungalow that we love at the end of February. Four weeks later Bird arrived -- three weeks early. Ack!

I have never been happier. I have never felt more stress. Is it possible to feel both at the same time?

I have to laugh at the younger me -- the one who thought she was busy. Ha! Writing a dissertation while teaching four sections, managing three grad students, and planning a wedding while commuting six hours between two cities every weekend was a cake walk compared to this.

I have to scoff at the the younger me -- the educated, feminist one who thought she would get pregnant, have a baby, take the allotted time for leave, and then simply go back to work.

How do people do this? How do women do this? How do working women do this? I have never done anything more rewarding, but I have to say I had no idea how it would work (and feel) on the ground, so to speak.

And then there's breastfeeding and going back to work. Pumping three times a day in a storage closet that was turned into a student aide office that was turned into a storage closet that is now my milking room is nuts. I know that many women past and present have pumped in much worse settings, but ack, this gets tough sometimes. I won't get into the abnormal distortions of my nipples (speaking of tough) or any other biological details, but wow do I respect women who can do this and work any job -- especially any demanding job.

Not that I'm complaining. (I've been saying that too much lately.) I find it interesting the ease with which I make decisions regarding things I need to do for our Bird. Breastmilk is best when it is possible. It's possible in my situation and Bird is thriving to date. Thus, the decision is easy -- I pump.

Pumping results in lots of work each evening as well. Neither David nor I ever imagined the hours we would spend measuring out 4-ounce servings of me, dating and sorting them, stacking them by date in the fridge and freezer, washing milk storage containers and bottle parts and pump parts, sanitizing all such containers and pump parts (and the occasional nuk), assembling bottles and containers, stocking a cooler of milk for Bird and cooler of containers to be filled for me....it is an endless cycle. It takes time.

I am much more aware of time now. Much of my life passes in three-hour segments -- the time between pumping or feeding. Even though I miss Bird all day long and hate to be away from him, many days at work pass in a blur.

I do not have enough time to get it all done.

I am getting better at being more efficient with my work days. Work is a lot different when you have to limit things to eight hours and you don't have the freedom to take a longer lunch or dawdle longer after a meeting and just stay later.

Like several other things in my adult life, I am now coming to an understanding (and, apparently, a club) that many millions of working women came to before I did. I am very much enjoying motherhood and feel like I am starting to find a balance between work and home -- a balance that allows me to be a mom 100% of the time even though I work. And this is a good thing since a new school year is upon us and my job is about to change a little -- or a lot, we'll see.

Part of this new balance involves getting back to activities that I enjoy -- such as writing! Here's hoping that I can find the time to get back to this blog.

And speaking of time -- August 4 marked the fourth anniversary of this blog.